


Heart

by graywhatsit



Series: Hatbots [9]
Category: The Yogscast
Genre: Alternate Universe - Robots & Androids, Gen, Hat Films, Multi, Sickfic, Upgrades, hatbots
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-10
Updated: 2015-06-10
Packaged: 2018-04-03 18:49:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4111282
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/graywhatsit/pseuds/graywhatsit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ross and Trott can blink, speak, breathe, walk, and think.</p><p>They are human in just about every way.</p><p>But there's something they're missing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Heart

**Author's Note:**

> the hatsome's only really there if you want it to be and is very easily a strong platonic relationship otherwise

For the entirety of his creation, Trott had been rather content with his own design.

    Of course, the android was smaller than his friends, as well as slimmer, but he had no need for a bigger, bulkier body. He wasn’t interested in a different design- his body suited his purposes very well, and no one particularly cared about his appearance, aside from the occasional remark about his resemblance to any number of celebrities.

    Even upgrades weren’t necessary. He had all the computing power and storage space he might have needed, in his supercomputer of a brain, and he had every single function he truly needed to complete any task on his list. Frivolous and meaningless upgrades, he believed, could be left to Ross- he was far more willing to go under the knife, as it were, to experiment with any number of new gadgets and features.

    He had organs of a sort, of course: an internal battery, the circuits that held his brain and emotion, bellows for respiration, tubes as veins, rubbery tendons and muscles, and a constant circulatory system to run fluid through said veins, carrying oil and antifreeze and such things, keeping him moving. None of it _looked_ the part, but they worked as they needed to, so he didn’t mind.

    Still, the more he learned of the world, of humans and their intricacies, beliefs and knowledge, he grew ever more curious. They said the heart was the center of emotion and love, that heartless people were no more than monsters. Certainly that wasn’t true- he knew emotions to be chemical for humans, simulated for himself and Ross. They had no hearts, true, but that didn’t make them cold or distant. They weren’t necessary for either of them, for either emotional or physical reasons.

    One night changed his view of their importance- or, at least, revealed they provided a new, previously unknown purpose.

* * *

    “Hey.”

    With a gust of icy wind and more than a few stinging drops of sleet working against him, Smith just managed to force the door shut behind him, taking a moment to lean against the solid wood and take a few deep breaths.

    “Hey, yourself.” Trott looked up from the computer on his lap, raising an eyebrow at the sight of the engineer, already starting to shiver as he peeled off layer after soaked through layer, hanging them to dry on the coat rack. “Make it back alright?”

    “Brr.. fine. Can’t you tell?” He rubbed his hands together, hoping to bring some warmth into the pale, freezing digits, raising them to cup around his reddened nose and cheeks. “Didn’t think all that would come this far south.”

    “That’s why you check the weather before you decide to walk instead of drive.” Ross’ voice came from down the hall, provoking a rather displeased expression from the engineer still standing at the door.

    “I _did_ , you scrap heap. They fucking _lied_ \- budge up, I’m tired.” Smith pushed at Trott, spread out over the couch, very narrowly missing his feet as he gave no further warning before plopping down, himself. Now slightly warmed up, he ruffled his beanie-flattened hair with one hand, propping his head up with it on the arm of the couch, and sniffled.

    “What was that? Did you catch something?”

    Smith rolled his eyes, though he didn’t look over to see Trott’s worried expression- it was more than clear in his tone, and he knew that face well enough, anyway. “No, mum. It happens when you warm up sometimes, loosens all the snot in there.”

    The android wrinkled his nose in faint disgust. “I don’t want to hear any more about your fluids, thanks.”

    “Oh, please, you love it. Love to taste it, too, slurp it all up.” He mock-slurped, moving in a touch closer.

    “Okay, well, that’s me done.” Trott shut the lid of the laptop decisively and stood up from the couch, the disturbed look now even more pronounced. “When you’re finished talking about it, I’ll be in the kitchen.”

    “ _Trott_ …” Nothing, not even a glance back. Not that it’d stop him from ever mentioning it again, but for now.. he supposed he could lay off. He didn’t really have the energy for that today, anyway.

    As Trott resumed his work, he could hear more sniffles from the living room, increasing in frequency and volume as time went on, and by the time he’d finished the paper he’d been writing for class, coughs had accompanied them, almost heavy and wet, but what didn’t sound productive. He could hear the conversation in the next room as he got up to prepare some dinner for his creator:

    “Mate, you sound like you’re going to cough up a lung- what’s going on?”

    “Nothing, it’s just a little stuffy in here- hey, get off of me!”

    “Stop that! Hm… you feel really warm, and you’re kind of shaking. Smith-”

    “Fuck off, I feel fine. Your sensors are fucked up, I’m telling you.”

    If that were the case- which Trott was sure it wasn’t, seeing how Smith had _just_ given them maintenance and deemed them perfectly fine- Trott would simply take his own measurements. Checking his own database for what was best for someone sick- **[Chicken soup, preferably homemade]** \- he managed to find a can, heating it up and taking the steaming bowl in for his friend.

    “Best eat up, mate,” he started, carefully handing over the piping hot soup, making sure he wouldn’t add a burn to his list of problems, “because after this, you’re going to bed.”

    Smith looked up at him, indignant, placing the hot ceramic bowl on the coffee table with hardly more than a glance. “Bed? There’s nothing wrong with me, I have shit to do. Stop it, you’re not my mum-” He cut off when Trott placed his hand on his forehead, taking a more accurate scan than from what could just be determined through his other sensors.

    **[38.4° Celsius- a low-grade fever]**

    “Nice try, mate, but you’re sick. Fever, coughing, sniffling-”

    “Shaking, whining about not being sick,” Ross added, helpfully, then pushed the bowl back towards the fuming human. “Eat, then sleep. You’ll feel better.”

    “If it’ll get you all to shut up and leave me alone..” Huffing and grumbling to himself, Smith did as told, sipping at the salty broth and carefully chewing both chicken and noodle. Both androids watched him very carefully, making absolute sure he’d eaten every drop of his meal, before Ross whisked away the bowl to be cleaned up.

    “You get him to bed, yeah? I’ll clean since you cooked.”

    Trott huffed, helping the equally-grumpy human to his feet and towards the bedroom. Really, it was just saving the hard work for him- washing a few dishes was nothing compared to getting an irate Smith ready for bed, and they both knew that. See if Trott would help Ross with anything in the future.

    He would, of course, if only to make sure the construct didn’t do something stupid, but he was allowed to be annoyed, right?

    “Trott-”

    “I’m not watching,” the android replied, eyes closed even though his back was turned. “Don’t worry. I’m not interested, anyway.”

    “Of course you are, I’ve seen how you look at me. Filthy bot.” As he was still more than a bit irked, he didn’t bother to check up on the human when he cried out, landing with a thump on the soft bed as he struggled with his pajamas. “Ow…”

    “That’s what you get. When you’re done, get in bed. I’ll know if you’re up and about, so don’t even try.” Trott waited until the grumbling died down, the soft shuffle of sheets finally ceasing as his creator got comfortable in bed before he turned around. He looked more tired now than angry, and his tone softened a little. “Need anything?”

    Smith simply grunted, lifting up the covers to his right, where Trott usually spent his hours recharging. “You’re warm. Come on.”

    “You know, I was working on-” The stare he was given showed the engineer wasn’t about to take no for an answer, cloudy dark blue even in the dark of the room. How could he really try? With an exaggerated, unnecessary sigh, the android moved under the blankets, getting settled in his spot. Nothing else needed doing tonight, anyway, and his battery felt a little low. He could do with an early plug in.

    Awkwardly patting the uncharacteristically cuddly engineer on his slightly damp hair- was that a good thing? Maybe his fever was down- he secured the plug in his port and shut his eyes, going into standby mode.

* * *

His fever didn’t go down.

    For the next four days, everything was a blur of tissues, odd noises, excessive heat, and any number of supposed remedies for illness, from homemade to storebought.

    Not a single one of them worked to soothe the poor human, still tucked in, bedridden and feeling miserable with the two androids on either side of him growing increasingly worried. Sure, they’d seen him get sniffles or whatever before, as well as the occasional stomach virus and hangovers more than once, but nothing like this. He was pale and shivering, though hotter than an oven to the touch. Breathing through his nose was next to impossible, resulting in heavy mouth breathing and a splitting headache, but even that didn’t seem to get enough air into his system.

    Their friend spent more time asleep than he did awake, but it was hard to leave his side for a second. Good thing they didn’t really _need_ to.

    From what they’d discovered, it was something a lot of people had come down with after that bout of horrible weather, though many people had already started to recover. He’d be perfectly fine, with how much rest he was getting, plus all of the fluids the robots had made absolutely sure he drank.

    It didn’t stop them from worrying.

    He looked… well, like he was _dying_. Still and pale, with his breath rattling in his chest as his lungs struggled to work, to keep him alive. The body wants to live, but it almost seemed like it was giving up, like any second it would just..

    They wouldn’t lie- it was terrifying. The cold fear shot through their processors, and every time his breath slowed into sleep, they hoped against hope that it wouldn’t continue to slow down into nothing. Fearful, knowing he wouldn’t even be awake to notice or tease them about it, they curled as close as possible on the fourth night, hoping to ease his tremors with their own heat, hoping the whirring of their mechanisms could soothe his fever dreams.

    Trott rested his head on his chest, and found something surprising, something that gave him even more hope for his creator. There, overpowering the horrible, thick rattle of his lungs pushing past inflammation and mucus, was the strong, steady beat of his heart. _Thump-thump, thump-thump_ , again and again. That thing was not giving up, and neither was Smith.

    That little organ was more than enough comfort for him to rest, and when he woke up to a bleary-eyed, yet aware and quite sweaty human, now a normal temperature… it sparked the idea.

* * *

    A heart wasn’t just a pump for fluid circulation. It didn’t just hold emotions and love and personality the way many humans thought it did. A heart was a source of joy, of comfort, of reassurance- not just for the one in possession of it, but those around them.

    The solid, steady beat seemed to say that everything was okay, would continue to be okay, and if Smith could do that for them.. well, why couldn’t he repay the favor?

    It took a lot of work. He knew that would be the case, of course, from the very instant he started to cobble together his plan. He had next to no knowledge of real human anatomy, apart from the most basic of basic instruction, and he wasn’t the engineer he knew his creator was. Genius though he was, Trott was not perfect, not omniscient- this would require a lot of thought and certainly more than one attempt.

    Another pair of hands wouldn’t hurt, either.

    “Explain this again: what are you doing?” His fellow android looked at him, confused, as he tried to wrap his head around the rapid-fire volley of words Trott had thrown at him the moment their fully-recovered friend had left for work.

    Trott frowned, far from impressed and more than a bit exasperated- honestly, he should be able to keep up by now! “I’m making a heart, and I’m gonna need your help,” he replied, laconically. “I can’t reach into my own chest well enough to place it.”

    “No, I gathered that much- just _why_?” Ross looked down at his own chest, as though he could see through his clothes and synthetic skin in order to see the inner working of his own body. “I mean, a heart does circulatory stuff, right? Pumps fluids and all that? We already have a pump, and isn’t it way more efficient?”

    “I’m not interested in the circulatory stuff- and yes, you’re right, it is.” Smith’s blueprints for their own designs were long gone, somewhere in the ungodly mess of his workroom. Though he did have time to sort through that disaster, it was easier to get a pencil and a bit of paper to work on. “Ours is constant, there’s no pumping, it just lets everything pass through. No wasted time.” He sketched out a rough shape of their bodies, settling a small image of their pump in the center. “A heart’s- from what I’ve learned- is at least one and a half times as big, and the design… well.”

    Ross looked over his doodle, wrinkling his nose. “Is that really what it looks like, or are you a shit artist?” At the construct’s glare, he raised his hands in defense. “Okay! It just looks really weird- why would it do that?”

    “Hell if I know. I’m not a master of evolution, seeing how I actually had to look that up.” Trott paused, looking it over and tapping the eraser of his pencil on the table. “It really does look weird… Anyway, that’s not why I want one.”

    “Talk to me, Trott.”

    “I _am_ talking to you!” He gave an unnecessary sigh, then placed his pencil down. “We want to be more human, right? That was why Smith made us, to be as human as possible. It’s a step closer- and don’t you like experimenting with useless upgrades?”

    “Hey!” Ross frowned, indignant. “A stomach is _not_ useless- and we both have lungs that we don’t need!”

    “Not true- we need them. Remember what Smith said?”

    “It was creepy that we didn’t breathe? Look, he made robots, he should have known.”

    “True, but the point still stands, we need them. They make us more human-like and Smith decided we needed them. A heart will help.” Trott paused, then looked up the short incline to his friends face, a bit pleading. “Come on, you can make one, too.”

    Ross pondered this, pursing his lips. “Like _actually_ make one? Not just doing what you tell me to do and ending up with the exact same thing?”

    It was _one_ time, honestly, and it was only to make sure he didn’t accidentally cause damage. For safety! Still, the smaller bot rolled his eyes and crossed his arms. “Yes, actually make one. Your own design and everything.”

    “Well, come on, then!” Trott only had a moment to grab his little sketch before Ross had his arm in an iron- actually carbon fiber, whatever- grip, tugging him down the familiar route to the workshop. “We have work to do!”

* * *

    Engineering… is not easy.

    Making things from scratch with only the slightest knowledge of how it’s supposed to work and a few reference pictures… is also not easy.

    Making a heart is especially not easy.

    After settling his reference pictures in the center of the room, within easy access for both bots, Trott went to work on his own version, leaving Ross with whatever he might need to work on his prototype.

    No help, no pollution of ideas- just the feeling of each other working in the same room. Companionship was not assistance, and they’d agreed on no help.

    It took the entire eight hours of Smith’s work day for them to draw up their plans, resulting in piles and piles of scrapped ideas, poor sketches, and half-baked schemes. As mentioned, engineering isn’t easy, and your first go isn’t going to be the one you stick with in the end.

    The two androids knew that very well, at this point.

    The second they heard the turn and click of a key in the front door’s lock, however, they abandoned their work for the day. What would Smith think of this, after all? He may put a stop to it, or laugh at them, or something- they really didn’t want to face what _could_ happen. Instead, they scooped up bits of paper, both crumpled up drafts and finished plans, and stowed them away wherever they possibly could.

    Smith never cleaned up in there, anyway. He wouldn’t snoop.

    Everything went as normal after that. Joke around and relax with Smith, make dinner, play games, go to bed, to class- just a completely normal routine.

    Save for when they were at home and Smith was not. That time, however short it might have been, from a fraction of an hour to a full workday, was spent working on their project, only to be completely cleared up by the time Smith called that he was home. Really, that became a routine in itself, almost a game: how fast can a bot clean up?

    The answer to that question is pretty damned fast.

    Finally, after solid months of working and testing and tinkering, they had two versions: Ross’ design and Trott’s design. They had worked perfectly well in testing, outside of their bodies with a bit of oil and spare tubing, with a strong beat and functioning very well as a replacement pump. Everything would work just fine.

    Now was the moment of truth, the moment where all of their hard work, weeks and weeks of time, would pay off. For the first time, they’d see each other’s handiwork, and it would be used for the exact purpose it was meant for.

    “Wait a second.” Trott looked down at the creation in Ross’ hands, wrinkling his nose slightly. The thing hardly even _looked_ like a real heart. It was oddly abstract, stylized, almost like a love-heart rather than anything anatomically correct. The white material didn’t even look sturdy enough to be held so gently as it was, much less put through the strain of actual working conditions. “ _That’s_ going in your body? Really?”

    “No, of course it isn’t.” Before Trott could breathe an unneeded sigh of relief, his friend continued. “It’s going in yours.”

    “ _What_?” The shorter of the pair backed away a few steps, almost bumping into the workbench behind him. “Hell no, it isn’t! Mine’s going in mine!”

    “Trott, think about this.” After carefully setting the finished heart down, he raised a hand, continuing his explanation. “I don’t know how yours hooks up to your body. It may look completely different, and I don’t want to mess anything up in there whilst I’m working. I know how mine connects and how it’ll work- it’ll be better if we install that way.”

    “You’re actually mental.”

    “Excuse me for wanting to help with your plans,” Ross deadpanned, clearly a bit upset. “Look, if you really want me to use yours, something I know next to nothing about, in a procedure that I’ve never done, that may just damage my friend beyond repair-”

    “Fine, fine! Then.. mine’s going to you. Suppose you should see it, first.” Trott could afford to be a little rougher with his own, tossing the oily dropcloth to the side and scooping it up into his hands, presenting it as if it were solid gold. “See?”

    Ross frowned thoughtfully, tilting his head. Trott’s didn’t look too much like a real heart, either- vaguely, sure, but it was angular and heavy, a dark, steely gray. It seemed very similar to their own fluid pumps, as well- in fact, with a bit of a closer look, it was that exact idea, just given an updated look. Entirely scientific, with little thought to aesthetic. Just like Trott. Ever the more tactful android, he simply said, “Nice. It fits your style.”

    Trott beamed, missing the veiled insult. “Well, you know. Just added some things- don’t mess with perfection, right? Now, come on. We should get this over and done with before Smith gets in. I don’t want to have to explain this just yet.”

    A quick round of rock-paper-scissors- Ross won, a rare occurrence, which meant Trott was under the knife first- and the smaller android lay back on the table, hurriedly babbling last-minute instruction to his friend.

    “If it seems that anything at all is going wrong, just stop, revert back to the way I was. Seriously, it’s fine if you-”

    “It’ll be _fine_ ,” Ross grumbled, pushing on his friend’s shoulder to get him to lay down again. “Have some faith, yeah? I’ve got you.”

    Trott watched him for a moment, then closed his eyes, going to shut down. “Yeah. Luck.”

    “Luck,” Ross echoed, squeezing the shoulder still under his hand, and as soon as he heard Trott power off, he opened up the chest cavity. Here went nothing.

* * *

    All things considered, it went very well.

    He’d never done this before- neither of them had, to be perfectly honest- but months of study and careful planning and testing had them far more prepared to upgrading that they’d originally thought. The hearts went in place without a hitch, and worked perfectly as the pumps they were replacing. Of course they’d be proud of their accomplishment.

    Even if that celebration turned out to be them taking turns to listen to each other’s hearts, ears pressed against chests to hear the solid, steady thumping of their new organs. It was just as comforting and reassuring as Trott had hoped it would be. His- their- best work, entirely.

    They’d been hoping to wait until that night to show Smith what they’d done, as they’d all be in close enough proximity in the quiet of the bedroom so that he could hear, but their excitement and pride just couldn’t let them wait that long. He’d be home in half an hour, anyway, surely it wouldn’t be that long.

    After ten minutes, it started to feel a little uncomfortable where it rested, right in the center of his chest, but perhaps it was still just something to get used to. Excitement wanes a little, after all- perhaps he was just blinded to the feeling. Whatever, it would only be a minor adjustment, it could be fixed. Even when Ross started to complain of the same thing.

    After twenty minutes, he started to feel sluggish, and when Ross spoke to him, it seemed to take him ages to say a single word, let alone an entire sentence. The pain in his chest only got worse, and- if he could really move that much and possibly be able to move back, he’d curl up in a ball, hoping to ease it.

    As the door opened and Smith called for them, the heart in his chest gave a massive shudder and stopped dead, with the panic on his friend’s face only confirming- something was wrong.

    “S-Smith!”

    Once he’d gotten the message- the only slightly still mobile Trott gesturing frantically to his chest- and replaced the hearts with actual pumps like before, Smith actually had time to laugh at them.

    It was a stress reaction, really- seeing his two creations, his best friends, malfunctioning at all was frightening beyond belief.

    Ross was the one to actually speak up about it. “Look, we’re sorry. We just wanted to be more human- we thought we could do it.”

    “And look what happened to you.” Smith wiped his hands on another, sort of clean rag, glancing down at the two damaged, oily ‘hearts’ on the table. Not the best craftsmanship, but he could definitely see the effort. “Good thing I got here, hm?”

    Trott, silent, could only shrug. How could he have failed so massively? It had been working perfectly during testing- what had gone wrong? Maybe he really wasn’t an engineer- but his creator was. “Yeah. Hey…” He scratched through his brown hair. “Maybe we should leave the upgrade to you. What do you think?”

    “What?”

    Ross immediately latched onto the idea. “Yeah! You made us, you know how this stuff works way better than we do. You should take them and make them better for us!”

    The human raised an eyebrow, looking between the two of them. “What about your own pumps? Those have worked just fine, and your organs don’t need to be seen by anyone. They don’t have to be like hearts at all.”

    “But we’d like them to be,” Trott replied. His last card- he pulled out his pleading face. “Please, Smith? Take them, make them work- then we can have actual hearts. Like a human!”

    He really, really couldn’t face that. That expression had the absolute worst effect on him- especially when Ross joined in, giving him a double dose of puppy dog eyes. Why he’d given them such an ability, or where they’d learned it, he had no clue, but he was not happy about it. A little flustered, he turned away with crossed arms. “Fine. I’ll see what I can do to fix them- for now, just keep your pumps, okay?”

    “Thank you, Smith!” With double thanks, he was left alone in the workshop, looking at the two broken faux-organs, wracking his brain to find a way to fix them up right. Why had he agreed to it?

    Because he had no choice when it came to those two. With a sigh, he took up the rag once more and began to clean up the mechanisms. Maybe he wouldn’t have to change too much at all.

* * *

    Days of tinkering and robots asking after his progress- always responded to with a “for fuck’s sake, if you want it done, _stop asking_ ”- later, he had them sitting on the table before him.

    Okay, he’d had to change more than he’d originally suspected, but it was nothing he couldn’t handle. In fact, the faults were rather minor, surprising for this being one of their first creations. Tweaking and swapping and altering- really, the most time was taken in changing the appearance of the creations. They just weren’t- well, _heart-like_ , in their design. The heavily stylized and even abstract aesthetics seriously limited what the inner workings could have been, which was one of the more serious faults. Still, he wasn’t about to completely strip them of their originality.

    Ross’ heart- that is, the one meant to go into his body- was still steely gray and a little angular, like Trott’s original design, but the edges were more rounded and natural, a little more defined in terms of detail, and looked much more like a heart. The same went for Trott’s- still that lightweight white material, though reinforced, and more natural looking. Still, that Ross flair was evident, just in looking at it.

    A combination of efforts, from all three of them, present in each and every heart. He was fairly proud of himself.

    And that night, with hearts resting comfortably, he could hear two beats synchronized with his own. Every one of them was safe, warm, and _alive_.

    Reassured, it was far easier for each of them to fall asleep, all in one big pile.


End file.
